Blood Red
by fallentears13
Summary: In a frantic need to kill someone, Johnny abducts who he thinks is just a random person, but ends up being Devi.  This encounter makes him wonder why he even wanted to kill her in the first place.
1. The Need

Crimson

Staring into the wall, Johnny heard the noise. A shifting. A grinding. Something not human enough to live with. Then again, Johnny barely considered himself human. The red was already fading to brown.

"I need blood," Johnny said aloud."

"Wouldn't red paint work just as well?" said the dead bunny nailed to the wall.

"Nah, I dunno. It's too simple that way. It's too easy. Nothing's that easy. I need blood to hide whatever stirs behind that wall."

"Nny, I don't think there's anything there."

Johnny spun around and glared at the decomposing rabbit. "Shut up! Just shut up! How would YOU of all people know about it, nail-bunny? Just shut the fuck up!" Johnny grabbed two knives, stuffed them inside his jacket, and slammed the front door as he made his way out.

It was dark. The sliver of moon barely made enough light to see the silhouettes of houses. The only working streetlamp flickered.

"Of course, there's no one out on such a beautiful Tuesday night," Johnny muttered.

Johnny headed over to the town. It was almost empty. Occasionally a person walked by, but no one he felt like killing. No, he had to find the right one. Someone who stirred within him the urge to kill. But still, the few people that passed by didn't arouse such feelings.

Turning into an empty alley, Johnny waited. The time stretched on, and the anticipation built up. Johnny clutched the knife underneath his jacket. He bit the tip of his finger, and hungrily licked the blood that flowed. His vision was going blurry with the need. He growled as a jogger passed by from a distance.

He needed to kill someone. Anyone. Now!

Suddenly, he saw a shadow moving in his direction. The alley was a dead-end, with two walls on both sides, and a third at the end. The shadow continued approaching. Johnny gripped both blades, clenching his jaw. The slender hooded figure was almost here.

"I might as well have a bit of fun with this one," Johnny thought.

The figure passed him by, not even noticing his existence, and continued moving. It took every ounce of muscle for Johnny not to attack right there.

Suddenly, he sprang; grabbing the silhouette. He threw duct tape quickly around the wrists of the struggling person, and began to drag them through the backstreets to his crypt. He held a knife to the throat of his victim, but it didn't end the movement.

"I'll kill you right here and now if you don't quit fighting!" Johnny threatened, and using the knife in his left hand, he pressed the blade quickly but deeply into the victim's shoulder. A low female voice let out a muffled gasp, then went quiet.

Puzzled, Johnny continued dragging the bleeding woman back home. Why did she gasp as if she had sudden realization? Most girls scream. Or cry. Or beg for mercy. And if they gasp, they breathe heavy, whimper, or whatever. But just a gasp? Johnny regretted not going after the jogger, because this didn't look like it was going to be much fun.

Upon entering the house, Johnny threw his bleeding victim on the floor. The figure sat up, and quickly removed her hood.

The blood ran cold in Johnny's veins as he stared into the girl's pale face. Wide dark eyes watched his every move. Her skin looked so pale against her purple hair and the crimson blood on her cheek. Johnny opened his mouth to speak, but could only utter one word.

"Devi?"


	2. Reunion

Devi's eyes were a mix of sadness and confusion. Johnny's heart was beating so loud that he feared she could hear it. The silence thickened the air like velvet.

After a long pause, Devi spoke. "Why?"

"Huh?" Johnny said.

"Why? Why do you do it? Why me? I liked you. I felt close to you. But you still tried to kill me."

"No one is close to me. No one knows me," Johnny growled, turning away.

"Yeah, I get that now," Devi said, her voice cracking, "Especially after you tried to kill me. But honestly, I felt like you knew me better than anyone else. But you wanted to 'immortalize the moment.'" Devi laughed stiffly.

"What is it?"

"It's funny, most guys would say something like that about sex or rape."

"I don't think it's funny."

"Neither do I really, I'm just being stupid since I'm probably about to die and everything."

Johnny didn't answer. He wanted to kill. He needed to kill. But it was Devi. He didn't want to admit it, but she really was the closest anyone had ever gotten to knowing him. He had liked her a lot. He didn't even know why he tried to kill her. He let that float around in his head.

Devi brought it up, "So can you tell me, before I die, why you wanted to kill me?"

"It doesn't matter anym—"

"Yeah, Nny, it does matter! I don't give a fuck why, I just want to know! I don't sleep at all anymore, because that thought haunts me! Look," She turned, and showed him the red cuts surrounded by scars barely visible under the tape on her wrists, "THAT'S why it matters to me! I don't care if I'm about to die, I just want to know! I just… want to know." Tears streamed down Devi's face, but her eyes remained solemn.

Johnny had never seen anyone react like that.

Usually they scream. They cry. They moan. They yell. They beg for forgiveness. They sweat. They break down. They shiver. They whimper.

But Devi just stared with silent tears. Thrown to the ground, sitting, blood running down her arm. Staring.

Johnny sighed. "You wanna know why? You wanna know why I tried to kill you? Hell, I don't blame you, I'd wonder too. But fuck, I liked you Devi. I liked you when we first started talking at that bookstore. I liked everything about you. You actually cared about me! That's something no one could ever do for a shit like me!"

"That doesn't answer the question at all."

"I know it doesn't! Because I really don't know why I tried to kill you! I just wanted to kill you! I HAD TO KILL YOU, BECAUSE…." Johnny froze, realizing he had come a lot closer to Devi than he meant to. He clutched his knives, and stared down at her. "Because…."

Devi managed to stand up, wrists still bound. Her face was inches away from his now.

Johnny released his grip on the blades. They clattered to the ground loudly. "Because I was afraid. I was afraid I would be left in solitude, abandoned, I don't know!" Tears began streaming down his face now. He tore off the duct tape on Devi's wrists, and sat on the couch, defeated. As the tears fell quietly he glanced at the gun on the dresser. He wanted an end to his suffering.


	3. More than Reality

Following his gaze, Devi sat next to him. He remembered the time they almost kissed on their first date. It was then that the urge to kill her was provoked. The feeling that if he got too close, he would be crushed.

Devi turned to face him. "I'm not like that, you don't have to compare me to the rest of the world."

Johnny looked into her dark eyes. He remembered going to the bookstore just to see her every day. He remembered his realization of how different she really was. He remembered that she WAS different. She cared.

"I tried to kill you though," he sighed.

"And even after, I still wished I could see you."

"Aren't you afraid I'm going to do the same thing?"

She answered to this by leaning forward to meet his lips with her own. A kiss. Johnny closed his eyes, and leaned in as well. One innocent, long kiss. They broke apart.

"I can't help but feel completely safe with you, even after everything, even while I had hated you every night since then. I still knew, deep inside, I wanted to be with you," Devi whispered.

"Do you trust me at all?" he replied.

Devi slowly pulled his shirt over his head. She continued by unzipping her jacket, and pulling off her tank top to reveal a low-cut, black-laced bra. "Maybe I can prove it to you this way." Reaching into her back pocket, Devi pulled out a condom.

Johnny leaned forward to kiss her again, this time more forcefully. He kissed her over and over again, undoing her belt, slipping it through the loops. She unbuttoned his jeans and took off her pants. Her porcelain skin contrasted with a pair of black panties. Johnny pushed her against the couch, and pulled himself on top of her as she took them off along with her bra. He threw his jeans and boxers aside as she ripped the condom wrapper open with her teeth. She put it on for him, her cold fingers sending tingling sensations up through his abdomen. She pulled him closer to her.

Johnny pressed himself against her, and went right in. She cried out when he entered her, a moan of pain and pleasure. Her breathing increased in rate; she dug her nails into his shoulder. Bliss surged through his body as he went faster. "Don't stop," Devi gasped. He was on the edge. He thrust in one final time as she let out a scream of enjoyment.


	4. Realization

Devi lay her head on Johnny's shoulder, and he didn't mind that her hair was in his face. She looked him in the eyes, her long nose casting a shadow as if her face were a waxing moon, the light from the lamp the sun. Johnny admired the way the rings in her irises varied in shades of brown and gold. He felt the warmth of her breath touch his neck. She smiled at him, but no emotion escaped those dark eyes.

Sitting up, Devi put her clothes back on. Johnny realized she was wearing the same outfit she had worn on the night he tried to kill her.

The same striped sweater and black jeans.

It confused him. He thought she hated him. Hated everything that had happened. Wanted to rid Johnny from her life completely. But why was she wearing that now? It was coincidence finding Devi.

Then again, Johnny had never decided if he believed in coincidence.

Still, it didn't make any sense. How could someone try to forget something so much, then forgive him instantly? Johnny sighed, remembering the one time he attempted to make things a little easier on Devi, which inevitably ended a failure as she screamed into the phone interrupting his recorded message, telling him she never wanted to see him again, to leave her alone, that he had ruined her life, etc. He didn't understand how things added up.

"I wish we could be together," Johnny said, taking in the reality of the situation.

"Nny, what do you mean?"

Taking a large saw from a box on the floor, Johnny said, "I know you still hate me. More than hate me. You loathe every molecule of my being, which is why I know you're a fake. You can't be real." His voice remained at a low key, almost threatening anger, but filled with misery.

He handed her the saw. "If you were real, you would take this and stab me in the heart."

Devi's eyes grew wide. "No you're wrong Nny! I don't hate yo-"

"Do it! Prove to me you've forgiven me!" He cursed loudly, "God damnit all! To allow myself to go to such lengths with you, to let myself have physical pleasure, the thought alone disgusts me! That's how I _know_ this can't be real!"

"Well I thought it was real! I thought maybe I had proved to you that I'm not angry anymore! MAYBE I actually care!"

"Are you stupid? You really thought that? You REALLY thought THAT would prove something, that something as low as physical enjoyment would prove something like love, or caring about someone? It's just a way to take advantage of someone. A way to manipulate their being and make them feel as if they are compelled to give back." Johnny turned on her, furious. "You want to prove something? Well prove this!"

With that, Johnny snatched the blade back from Devi. With a violent grace he usually reserved for his victims, he brutally hacked into his chest cavity. Crimson blood spurted everywhere, but he felt no pain. He was falling. He fell through the floors, through the earth, through space and beyond. He watched in slow motion his blood explode through the room. He smirked, knowing the end was sweet. A quick death, enjoying watching the suffering of others.

Still in slow motion, he watched his body fall, about to hit the ground. Every millisecond was an eternity, as his blood showered his body. As his body hit the ground, he felt his very soul being pulled down as if he was still plummeting through the cosmos.

And then, he woke up.


	5. Alive

"GOD DAMNIT!" Johnny screamed as he sat up in the miserable piece of soft material he called a bed. "DAMNIT! WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH ME? HOLY CRAP!"

Johnny ran up the long flight of stairs to the ground level of the hell-hole he called a house.

Out the piece of shit he called a door. Into the darkness of night.

Barely being able to put the knife into the loose leather he called a jacket.

Jumping into the car, he drove. Fast. Over the limit for sure. Through busy streets. Cars swerved to get out of his way, horns honked as the owners screamed obscenities. Tires squealed on asphalt as a pair of cars crashed behind him. The sound of broken glass and ripping metal filled the air. Music to Johnny's ears.

Eventually, a police siren joined in the chorus. A patrol car sped up behind him, flashing his lights to grab Johnny's attention. Johnny grinned evilly as he floored the gas pedal. The cop pressed forward, swerving to miss cars.

"Let's make things more interesting," Johnny said aloud, veering away from the traffic down an alley.

The police car followed clumsily, running over the curb, causing the small patrol vehicle to bounce. He followed Johnny through the alleyways, until they reached a vacant lot. A streetlamp flickered on and off slowly. The convenient store which owned the lot was empty. It started raining outside of Johnny's car when he pulled over. It was perfect.

The police officer stepped out of his patrol car into the thickening rain. He was a fat man, with a red face and sideburns that stuck to the side of his face from the water. His belly jiggled as he walked over to the driver's side. He looked Johnny over, with an obvious objection to his attire.

Unrolling the window, Johnny looked at the overweight cop. "Yes?"

"Do you know how fast you were going?"

"Yes." Johnny licked his lips. He thought of the red wall.

"Do you know you sped through two red lights?"

"Obviously, or I wouldn't be sitting here." Johnny felt the cold metal of the knife through his shirt.

"Listen, punk, you kids might think you can dress however you want, drive however you want, and do whatever you want, but I'm here to tell you differently. This is a fine community. It's punks like you that screw it all up."

Johnny's eyes flashed with anger. He growled, "Not from what I've experienced. It's judgmental bastards like you that screw people like me up. It's the way society looks down on anything out of the ordinary. The view of what is _normal_ is an opinion. Society makes it a fact, and ostracizes anything different."

"Well, that's _your _fault and _your _problem, kid."

Johnny glared menacingly at the police officer, who had just sealed his own fate.

The fat man wiped the rain from his brow. "Step out of the car."

Johnny eyed the gun on the man's belt. He doubted the cop would be able to reach over his belly in time. "Are you sure about that?"

"Step out of the car."

Johnny opened the door slowly. As he stood up, he reached inside his jacket. Before the officer could react, he whipped out the blade and gouged out the officer's eyes, twisting the knife into his skull. Blood spurted everywhere. The officer screamed, and reached for his face. Johnny pulled the weapon out, grabbed the man's left hand, and viciously sliced off his hand midway between his wrist and elbow. The blind cop screamed louder.

"IT'S PEOPLE LIKE YOU WHO MAKE MY LIFE A LIVING HELL! PEOPLE LIKE YOU CAUSE IT ALL! YOU BRING DOWN OUR CIVILIZATION. CAN'T YOU SEE?"

Johnny stopped, realizing the irony of his last statement, and began to laugh maniacally. The officer kept screaming. Johnny tore his throat out ferociously. The screams ceased, and the man fell to the ground. Johnny forced the knife into his head.

Walking back to the trunk of his car, he pulled out a cooler. He picked up the officer's severed hand, blood still dripping down the fingers, and threw it in. He ripped off limb after limb, stuffing them into the cooler. Puddles of rain and blood surrounded him.

"This should be enough for now." Johnny closed the container, and heaved it into the trunk.

Suddenly, he heard breaking glass. Spinning around, he saw a silhouette breaking out of the store barely 15 feet away. The figure looked up.

"Oh shit!" The voice walked forward, allowing the light to come onto his face. A pasty, scraggly looking man of about 25 looked from the blood-covered Johnny, to the cop's remains, and back to Johnny again. "Fuck, you killed a cop?"

"What about it?"

"That's good news for me. Thanks!"

The man ran off, carrying a bag of stolen liquor. Johnny sniffed. He hated people like that. He closed the trunk of his car, and stepped into the driver's seat. The engine was still running.

He floored the gas pedal again. He sped directly towards the running man. Just moments before the impact, the man looked back at Johnny. He screamed, and was hit head-on. He flew up, hitting the windshield, but not breaking the glass. He hit the ground behind the car with a thud. Johnny enjoyed a moment of silence.

Stepping back out of the car, Johnny picked the man up. He was unconscious, but still alive. "This will be fun," Johnny thought, putting him in the trunk of his car.


	6. Self Loathing

The man twitched. He didn't know where he was, only that the darkness was warm, and he felt numb. He tried to remember. Suddenly a wave of pain ripped apart his body. He was sore everywhere, but his head felt like it was being split open.

He groaned, remembering what happened. He had awoken into a new darkness. He was lying on what he thought was the ground, maybe a tiled floor, in a puddle of a warm liquid. He touched his forehead, which was also wet. Blood. His blood. He tried to sit up. His ribs ached. He wanted to lie down and go back to sleep, but he knew he should find a way to escape. He attempted to make himself stand.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," a voice called out in the darkness. Suddenly, it wasn't darkness at all. Fluorescent lights glared down at the bleeding man, and his head began to split. He fell back over to the ground, finally being able to see who spoke.

Johnny stood in the doorway, his shirt stained with blood. He walked over to a wooden chair and sat down. Behind him, on the walls, were about a dozen switches and levers.

It was then the man realized his ankles were chained to the wall behind him. He sat up again, and tried to pull himself free.

Seeing the look of surprise on the man's face, Johnny smiled. "Are you in pain right now?"

"Huh?"

Johnny merely looked at him smiling.

The man began to sweat. "Well, I did get hit by a car so… yeah."

Johnny smiled wider. "Good. Now tell me, how about…now?" He pulled a lever.

An electrical surge brought enormous pain throughout the man's body, starting at his ankle chains. He screamed, a bloodcurdling scream, and Johnny laughed. He released the lever as the lights began to flicker, but then lifted another switch.

For a brief moment, nothing happened. Then, a small panel in the wall flipped, and a knife flew out at random. It fell for the man's face, but he moved out of the way just in time. Johnny stood up.

"Interesting," he muttered, pulling the knife from the floor. "I wonder what would happen if you had to dodge more than one…" Johnny said softly, taking his seat again.

"What? Wait, man, you can't do this to me! Let me go!"

Johnny ignored him as he pulled a third lever.

Knives and daggers randomly fell from the ceiling. The man shouted as he struggled to escape the blades. One hit his left leg and he screamed, momentarily forgetting the other knives. He was barraged from above as knifes hit him in his shoulders, back, and arms. Blood poured out from the wounds as Johnny reset the lever. The man, who had been sitting up fell flat on his face, panting heavily.

Johnny stood up again, and walked slowly to the dying man. He pulled out a meat-hammer. The man looked up just as the hammer came down on his face. Johnny swung again and again.

"You think death is GOOD? Even if you're a criminal and it's a cop? You're awful! Death, even for low scum like you, is never a good thing! Someone always gets hurt. You didn't even think about whether that cop did anything wrong or not. Well he DID but that doesn't make it right!" Johnny stopped, breathing heavily.

The man, barely alive, muttered, "…You're….the.. one….who…killed him."

Johnny slammed the meat-hammer into his face, until the man's brains were visible.

"That doesn't mean I enjoy it."


End file.
